A pouchâĻ? For food? But Iâm not-
Your claws wrap around my wrist. I freeze on the spot. Yes, it is cold, and my skin is thinâĻand you are so painstakingly warmâĻ The benefit of a winterâs furâĻ
Point made, just this onceâĻ You shouldnât have to feel alone.
Iâm anxious, watching muzzle and maw yawn wide before me, a cavern of muted pinks under the fill moonâs glare. More looming than that-ivory fangs laced with a sheen I canât ignore. An echo of finality whispers in my mind. I hesitate. You encourage a hesitant hand pushing in, letting me take things at my pace. I reach for a fang first, if for nothing else to ease my anxiety. You donât bite down. The bone is hard beneath my hand and as large as my forearm.
Yes, they are sharp and scary, and I voice my knowledge that theyâre harmlessâĻbut theyâre teeth. Big teeth. Itâs very, very hard to not be afraid. I move away before the fear settles in too deeply. Your tongue is soft and rough all at once, eagerly lapping my fingers and drawing me further in. Itâs almost honoring how much the muscle pulls, trying to coax me in. Your body is starving for me, begging with all its might for this easy prey, but youâre able to control the drive to snap down and devour me. Itâs sweet. Weird, and grossâĻbut sweet.
Iâve pulled back now, admiring the dripping, starving, loving vat of velvet heat before me.
âIâm ready.â The words leave my lips before I fully realize it.
I blink. At once you set into motion. Your mouth closes and presses into my fists. My knuckles sink into those lips, and I flex my fingers against the strange feeling of whiskers against them. Too, I feel your hitching breath. Familiar claws wrap around my wrists again. This is it. This time, I donât brace.
My stomach drops as those ivory daggers gleam against the moonâs glare. Your tongue greets my arms before I process your jaws opening wider, surging downwards. My mindâs eye flicks to summer afternoons sliding down a slip-and-slide. The heat and humidity feel similar. It helps quell the rising wariness. Iâve gotten this far, canât back out now.
I watch and feel my hands slip further into your maw, surrounded by your heat, your breath. Muscles flex, pulling me deeper, and I feel my body try to brace against the alluring warmth curling around my chest and stomach. Thereâs nothing to brace against. My upper half is nearly fully inside your jaws, legs delicately covered by your claws. I feel my wrists reach the crest of your throat. Theyâre squished together, my hands pressing out in some animalistic need to escape.
Everything jolts forward. Instinctively, I gasp, and thatâs the last breath of air I get as muscles crush inward. Itâs pressure, so much pressure. I can feel heat and warmth and soft and pressure all at once, all-consuming. I canât breathe oh god I canât breathe, I canât breathe and I canât feel where I am and-
My hands push into open air. They feel around blindly as Iâm held in suspension. Thereâs another roll of motion before my face joins them, and my lungs greedily reclaim the oxygen theyâd yearned for from the soupy air. Dizzy from the sudden rush, I fall face first into your gut with a grunt. Itâs not uncomfortable, rubbery and soft, like an inflatable left too long in the sun. The walls shudder and mold around my fingers. I push out, trying to sort and ease myself inside of you.
Our discussion earlier rings through my mind, silencing any lingering alarm bells. An extra organ to holdâĻ I am safe here.
The reminder is enough to ease some tension. I shift, push, wriggle myself into a ball, knees close to my chest, hands pushing out. I seek something solid, grounding, and find nothing. Thereâs no stability in this living hammock. Nothing but you surrounding me, sloshing me around as we both situate ourselves. Somehow, I donât mind. All I can sense is you. Your heat, your breath, each rush of blood and each groan of organs. Youâre a warm pool heated by the summer sun, rippling muscles like the surface of the water as I sink further down. Iâm safe here, but I need something-
I push my hands out. Thereâs a quiet drum, a rhythm amidst all the chaos. Something grounding. Itâs quick for a moment. Then, slowly, it begins to draw out. It takes a moment for me to register the source.
âI can hear your heartbeat,â I murmur, pressing my fingers into the rippling flesh, seeking the gentle drum. After a moment, I feel you press back. I feel myself relax. Stress I didnât know I had drifts away, bubbling away to a sunny surface I can no longer see. Iâm surrounded by you, someone I love, tucked away like a precious gem. And you, finally satisfied in a way I canât understandâĻitâs sweet.
Iâm not worried, dear. Iâll stay with you tonight. You have my word.
Maybe we can do this again.
